Zach's Present
by KatyForReal
Summary: It's Zach's 18th birthday, and Cammie got him the greatest gift imaginable. It's not something, but someone. . . Short story plucked from the depths of my brain. May be a two shot or three shot.
1. Chapter 1

**'Sup, mah homies? Sorry, excuse my ghettoness, it was totally uneeded. Anyways, this idea came to me in science class, so instead of studying for my final, I was day dreaming about this story. My priorities are wacked up. Read, and enjoy! Or not. . . that's totally up to you.**

Wraping presents is hard. Like, _I-don't-think-I-can-do-this-much-longer _hard. Zach had better be jumping of the walls when he gets this, or else I'm going to strangle him.

FINALLY! I was done. I grabbed the box topped with a curly blue bow and bounded down the stairs to the teacher's wing, were Zach's room was.

"Zach?" I called out. His door was slightly open and the light was off.

"Cammie?" a voice said in the same tone, mocking me no doubt.

I turned around and came face to face with non other than Zachary Goode, my "significant other", as aunt Abby called him. Despite his mocking tone, his eyes were welcoming and curious.

"Hey," I said to him, "Happy Birthday."

Zach smirked.

"I would go all gooey on you and exclaim that you remembered, but my birthday's not 'till tomorrow." he said

I checked my watch. 11:59 pm. Just one more minute . . .

"Now it is," I smirked at him. Something I learned from spending so much time with him.

Zach rolled his eyes and gestured towards the door, which we stepped into. I bounced onto his bed, way too hyper for a midnight meeting, and Zach sat next to me, perfect posture. I handed the present to him, fully expecting him to rip it open, but he did nothing but stare.

"Are you going to open it?" I asked slowly. Zach looked at me.

"Is this one of those gag gifts where something is going to jump out at me?" he asked, "Because I've heard horrific stories from your roommates about your little tradition."

I rolled my eyes.

"No," I said, "The store where I used to get those gifts closed down a few months back."

"Lucky me," Zach laughed out loud.

"Just open it," I said, pushing the box onto his lap.

Zach takes a dramatic deep breath and braces himself as he slowly lifted the lid. His posture immedietly changed when he saw what was in it.

"Who's this?" he asked, holding up the framed picture.

I took a deep breath.

"Uh, well, I remember how you said you didn't know who your dad was or if he was good or bad, so I did a little digging around and found him." I said, gesturing to the picture.

Zach looked at me with an unreadable expression.

"His name is Santiago Paola. He's from Argentina, and . . . " I looked at him, "He has no history what so ever of being in or acquainted with the Circle or the CIA. He's actually a teacher at an academy in Buenos Aires."

Zach remained silent, still staring at the picture. I nudged him in the arm, making him meet my eyes.

"He's . . . real. I actually have a real father," Zach stated numbly. He turned to look at me, the unasked question in his eyes.

"Spring Break is three days away. It took begging, pleading, and blackmail, but my mom finally caved." I said to him, "Mr. Solomon is going to come with us, and we should be back by next Thursday."

Suddenly, I wasn't on the bed anymore. I was in Zach's arms and he was up and twirling me around. He laughed and I smiled. It was one of my favorite sounds.

"Thank you, Gallagher Girl." He mumbled into my hair, setting me down on the ground.

"Anytime, Blackthorne Boy," I said into his chest. He wasn't bouncing off the walls, but seeing him like this was ten times better.


	2. Chapter 2

**Yo, yo! What's up, my Gallagher Girls? Okay, so here's the next chapter. Also, I told you guys that this would be a multi-chapter in the summary, so instead of telling me to make another chapter, tell me what you actually think of the story so that I can quench your fangirl thirst. Enjoy! (p.s. This chapter will be in Zach's point of view.) **

* * *

**0900 HOURS, SAINT VERONICA'S ACADEMY**

No."

"No, what?" I asked Cammie, who was giving me a disaproving look and holding out her hand.

"No comms!" she exclaimed, "You're going to meet your dad, not a target."

"Hate to break it to you, Gallagher Girl, but with a group of terrorists out and about, I'd perfer to _not_ be without back up." I said.

Cammie rolled her eyes.

"Okay, Zach, Santiago's classroom is in the East wing, room 221." Joe said.

I'm sort of wondering how he feels about all this. I mean, he's not my real dad, but he's acted like one for my entire eighteen years. He must've seen my look because he smiled encouragingly at me.

"Hey," Cammie said softly. It's not often that her voice gets like that, so I give her my full attention. But she seemed to be at a loss for words, because she hesitated and stayed silent, drawing back the hand that was reaching for my arm.

I love Cammie, which also means I know her. She's happy for me because I finally get to meet my dad, but she's sad for herself because she'll never get to see hers.

"Hey," I said back, playfully knocking her chin with my forefinger's knuckle.

She smirked at me and grabbed my hand, which was now cupping her cheek. She leaned up and kissed my cheek, (probably because if she did anything more than that, Joe would be on our butts about it.), and Joe patted my back.

"Good luck, Goode." he said.

I quirked an eyebrow at him.

"It's not my fault your last name is a commonly used word," Joe said, putting his hands up in defense.

I laughed and nodded my head, looking towards the massive school we were standing in front of.

Unlike the Gallagher Acadamy, St. Veronica's Acadamy was complete with a campus, office building, and two gymnasiums. The walls were a smooth concrete with the school's crest on them, which was a mustang with the Veil of Veronica on its back. Fitting, I guess. I don't know much about Catholic schools, but since Cammie was Roman Catholic due to her Italian heritage, she told me a bit about it on the plane.

I felt a soft nudge on my lower back, and turned to see Cam with her hads on my waist, guiding me to the direction of the East wing. I turned on my comms that were identical to Joe's, and walked towards my dad.

_"Disculpe, señor?"_ I asked a middle aged man who looked alot like me, _"Me preguntaba si podría hablar con usted un momento."_

_"__Sí, sí. En aquí." _Santiago said, gesturing towards his classroom.

We walked into the room and I sat on one of the student desks while he sat in his teacher's desk. From looking at the board, I found out that he was the foreign language teacher. Perfect.

_"¿Qué tiene que hablar?"_ he asked me, wondering what I wanted to talk about.

"I'm a . . . close relative of Catherine Goode." I said in English to him. When I said my mom's name, he looked taken aback, obviously not expecting that topic.

"Are you? Oh, how is she?" he asked in accented English. Well, the students here were screwed if he was their language teacher.

"She's hard at work with her . . . career," I said vaguely, "But I was wondering, could you tell me how you two met?"

Santiago ran his hands over his face.

"This is a very odd question mister . . . " he dragged off. I said the first name that popped into my head.

"Solomon, Zach Solomon." I replied.

"Yes, okay, well why is it that you are so curious about the meeting of Cathy and I?" he asked.

"Because when I do ask . . . Cathy . . . this question, she never answers. Plus, I'm doing a journalism project and I thought there was no better topic." I lied. The lie was smooth and easy, and like Cammie is everytime she does that, I was proud.

My dad sighed.

"It was the year 1995, and I was in studying in Barcelona for my masters degree, and one day when I was out at the market, this beautiful woman with hair like a ruby approached me while I was picking out fruit. She said to me, "You're picking all of the bruised fruit." and she emptied my bag's contents back onto the cart, and picked out all new fruit. The exact same kind that I had in my bag, only . . . well, not bruised. "How did you know what kinds of fruit I had?" I had asked her. She just gave me this mysterious smile that was alluring and terrifying all at the same time. Pretty soon, we started talking about everything and nothing at all. Well, I told her all about me, but she kept heself a mystery, all but her name. But her eyes-" Santiago stopped and looked at me, " They looked strikingly similar to yours . . . Anyways, her eyes held a fire that was uncomprehendable! It was the most amazing thing I had seen in my life. We kept meeting eachother and I just fell more and more in love with her. But one day, she was just . . . gone. Without a trace. I searched endlessly for her, but I came up with nothing. I never saw her again." he finished, a sad look in his eye.

I looked at Santiago Paola, seeing much more than just a man who looked like me. This was a man who had fet love towards a heartless woman, who made a mistake that resulted in my becoming _me_. She left him, taking her son with her. I felt . . . bad for him. He didn't have any terrorists after him, or had been drugged and captured, but he had a really bad break.

"Do you still look for her?" I asked quietly.

He shook his head.

"No, I came across this job and I made my life as a teacher. I loved Cathy, but she is nothing but a distant memory to me, now. But I am very happy here with the children. They give me enough silver hairs every day to not be entertained." Santiago laughed.

I laughed along with him. He had a hearty laugh that included a slight wheezing sound. I liked his laugh. It wasn't cruel like my mother's. How a man like him fell for a woman like her, I'll never understand. But, like father like son, I guess. I loved a Gallagher Girl, too. Still did.

"Well, Señor Paola, thank you for your time." I said, standing up from the hard wood of the desk.

"You're very welcome, _mijo_, it was very nice to meet you." Santiago said, leaning forward to shake my hand.

We said good bye and I walked over to the bench where Cammie and Joe were sitting. Cammie saw me and fired her line of questions.

"Well? How'd it go? Was there crying? Did he pass out? Wait, you didn't hit him, did you?" she asked, jumping to her feet and standing in front of me.

Joe slowly rose from his spot on the bench and raised an eyebrow at me, asking me the same questions in a non-verbal way.

"It went fine, there was no crying, he stayed fully concious, no I did not hit him, really, what kind of question is that?" I said to Cammie as I slipped my arm around her shoulders.

"That went awfully fast, Zach. . ." Joe dragged off.

"Yeah, well, I figured he was safer not knowing that he was the father of a wanted assasin's son." I stated.

"Zach?" Cammie questioned me, her eyebrows knitting together, forming a small dimple on her forhead.

"It's cool, I'm happy just knowing he's there," I said truthfully, kissing the dimple on Cammie's forhead, "He's not a question, anymore. He's real and he's sitting in room 221."

They seemed to accept that answer and we walked towards the car that was parked next to the cafeteria.

"So, what did you talk about?" Cammie asked me after a while of walking with Joe well ahead of us.

I looked at her in confusion.

"You didn't hear through the comms?"

"Um, no. I gave mine to Mr. Solomon. I wanted you to tell me." She said.

I smiled at her and laced our fingers together. I couldn't help thinking about what my dad had said, about falling in love with my mom. That was unrequited. But looking into Cammies kaleidoscope eyes, I knew that she loved me, too. Which is awesome for our unofficial/official relationship.

"How about, I tell you over dinner?" I smirked at her.

Cammie shook her head and sighed dramatically.

"Oh, you Argentinian boys . . . I was warned about you." she said.

Joe must've heard because he busted out laughing, as did I.

"So, is that a yes?" I asked her.

Cammie smiled and wraped her arm around mine.

"Sí." she said, smiling up at me.

I laughed at kissed her on the lips, not really caring if Joe saw us or not. Unlike my dad, I wasn't going to let my Gallagher Girl become a distant memory.

**So? Eh, eh? Pretty good, huh? Review and let me know what you think! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey there, guuuyyysss! Whaaas' up? Anyways, I seem to be pretty in to this one/two shot thing, so if you want me to write something that will capture your interest, I'm all over it like a fat kid on a fudge cicle. PM's and reviews are best. THE BEST. They are amazing, and boost my ego even more. Just thought I'd let you know. Peace out, cubscouts!**

**- Kaitlyn**


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